


i'm a little mixed up, but i'm feelin' fine

by pirateygoodness



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, F/F, Infidelity, Trapped in 1958
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7994086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kendra kisses Sara and it feels inevitable, like they’ve been orbiting towards this since the Waverider abandoned them here. </p><p>(or: there’s no way Sara and Kendra lived together for 10 weeks in 1958 and <em>didn’t</em> hook up. Canon-compliant.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm a little mixed up, but i'm feelin' fine

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Elvis Presley's "All Shook Up"

It’s 1958, and the Waverider isn’t coming back. Sara has a to-do list in her head, driving her forward. She’s got Kendra and Ray to take care of and Savage to outrun, and between them all they’ve got is a stolen car and the clothes on their backs. 

She doesn’t know this part of the country well, but after they’ve driven for a few hours, the signs on the highway all point to Hub City, so she points the car there. They ditch the car just outside of town, and take the bus the rest of the way in, invisible and anonymous. 

Kendra gets it, keeps her head down and follows Sara’s lead and tries to keep Ray from doing things like _asking directions._ They find a newspaper and a cheap diner, order coffee and cheeseburgers and try to regroup. Sara knows how to do this. She’s got that to-do list, and all she needs to do is keep ticking through it. 

They all have money on them - Sara and Kendra have pocketbooks, Ray has a wallet, one of Gideon’s many little touches when it comes to wardrobe. Pooling everything they’ve got, after paying for lunch, comes to $250. Turns out, that goes a hell of a lot farther in 1958 than it does (did) in 2016. 

They find an apartment, where the rent is a hilarious eighty dollars a month and the landlady is the kind of woman who, if she has opinions about the three of them getting a one-bedroom apartment together and what kind of marital arrangement that might mean, keeps them to herself. With the cash they’ve got on them they can live for a little while, and that’s something. They give the landlady fake names, but they pay for two months’ rent in advance, in cash, and she doesn’t ask any more questions. 

+

Ray tinkers with little bits and bobs. Sara doesn’t know how he finds things to work with, and, tries not to listen when he mentions that he cannibalized parts from the refrigerator, or when he starts talking about ways to hail the rest of the team. Kendra tinkers with Ray, fussing over him, but Sara can see it in her eyes, the same certainty that Sara’s trying not to think about. _They’re dead. They’re not coming back._

Sara goes shopping. Even after her share of the rent she’s got more than enough to buy new clothes, and thankfully Hub City is big enough that there’s a downtown where Sara can get a little bit lost. 

(Not too lost. Not with what feels like one person for every square mile, streets wide enough for giant cars and department store clerks who actually _ask her name._ Not in a world without texting or portable music, where people don’t seem to have anything to do with themselves but be _friendly_.)

The first store Sara stops in (the second one, after the one with the clerks who wanted to call her by name), the clerk asks her if she’s shopping for her _husband_ and she freezes, suddenly so angry she could spit. She leaves without replying, swallowing down curses against the patriarchy and 1958 and fucking _Rip Hunter_ for _leaving her_ and having the indecency to do it in a time like _this._

She tries another store, then another, pointing her feet toward seedier parts of town each time. Eventually she finds a shop playing rock music (or what she thinks is supposed to be rock music) on the record player. She slips inside and it feels a little like home. The girl at the counter is chewing gum and wearing jeans, hair tied up like she’s auditioning for the cast of _Grease._ (Sara almost says something, before she realizes with another jolt that _Grease_ won’t exist for another couple of decades.) She tries on jeans and the salesgirl calls her _honey_ and doesn’t say a thing about Sara not being married. For a few minutes, Sara doesn’t feel so alone. 

She buys a pair of jeans, three t-shirts, a sweater. The bill comes to thirteen dollars and she can’t tell if she wants to laugh or cry. 

+

Living in 1958 is different from visiting in almost every way. Each day comes with a new detail that needs to be worked out, something else to overcome. There’s a lot that Sara knows - the language, the culture - but enough that she doesn’t that it feels a bit like a rollercoaster. But Sara’s still got that to-do list to keep her going, things to check off to set up a life that feels something close to safe. 

They spend the last of their savings on on food, then blankets to sleep under, a rug for the living room floor that will do as a bed for the time being. They each start bringing back essentials, whatever that means to them. Ray spends his money on copper wire, a soldering kit, and as long as they’ve got enough to eat, Sara plans on not asking about what he plans to do with it. Kendra brings home practical gifts for the three of them: pillows, coffee, a set of pots and pans she found being given away at a yard sale. Sara brings home bourbon, a thrift store jigsaw puzzle that turns out to be missing several pieces, and a set of throwing knives that she tucks away in hiding spots around the house, just in case. 

+

The first week, they sleep in shifts. It’s partly to keep an eye out for Savage, and partly because of the way Sara’s stomach flips when Kendra looks at her, soft and shy, as they start talking about sleeping arrangements. 

“You guys go ahead,” Sara says, more gruffly than she means to. “I’ll take first watch.”

Ray and Kendra sleep curled together on the living room floor, Kendra’s pillows under their heads and the blankets Sara found at the army surplus store wrapped around them. They cuddle like the most perfect pair of spoons, peaceful in a way that makes Sara feel like she’s intruding on something special. 

Sara sits in the kitchen by the window that faces the street, and twirls her favourite knife around her index finger, over and over. 

It’s close to three when she hears movement in the living room. She recognizes it as the sound of someone stirring. She listens to the sound of soft footsteps moving towards her, and soon enough sees Kendra standing in the kitchen doorway. It’s dark, but there’s enough light from the street that Sara can see her face. She’s wearing pyjamas and a spare blanket around her shoulders like a cape, looking a little sleepy and gently tousled. The effect is enough to make Sara’s mouth go dry. “Hey,” Kendra whispers. “I thought we were supposed to take turns keeping watch.” 

Sara shrugs. “Didn’t want to wake you.” 

“So, your plan was, what - to just stay up all night by yourself?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

She can’t see Kendra roll her eyes, but she can hear it in the tone of her voice. “You know, you don’t have to spend all your time taking care of us.”

Sara sighs, turns away so that her back is to Kendra and she can see out the window. “Someone needs to make sure Mr. Over-A-Hundred-Merit-Badges doesn’t do something too stupid.” 

She hears the rustle of clothes as Kendra moves nearer, then feels touch against her arm. It takes a moment for her to register the fact that she’s being hugged, each of Kendra’s hands snaking down her forearms and gripping her tight. It feels like a lifetime (has sort of been a lifetime) since anyone’s touched her like this, and she doesn’t know what to do with the way that makes her feel. “Well,” Kendra says. “I do happen to be an ancient, ass-kicking Hawk goddess, so. Maybe I could help.” 

Sara chuckles, trying to keep her laugh as soft as she can. “I guess that’d be okay.” 

“Good,” Kendra says, reaching out to take the knife from Sara’s hand. “Now, go get some sleep.” 

She sleeps curled under her own set of blankets on the living room floor, a respectful distance away from Ray. It doesn’t take her as long to fall asleep as she expected, and she tries not to think about how much of that is related to the fact that she knows Kendra’s there, watching over her. 

+

Ray gets a job working nights at the local grocery store, restocking shelves, and suddenly Sara and Kendra have a lot of evenings to themselves. It’s weird, not having a mission to prepare for, or an imminent threat to look to. Something about the endless stretch of empty days in front of Sara makes her feel even more restless than usual.

Kendra’s the one who picks up on that, and starts recruiting Sara to keep her company on errands. They’re reasonable suggestions, at first - an extra set of hands carrying groceries home from the store, an extra opinion while she goes to try on clothes. After a while, the requests start to get more and more transparent, but by the fifth time Kendra’s asked for “help” to pick up some little thing from the corner store, it’s started to become automatic: when Kendra puts on her coat, Sara reaches for her own. 

What they don’t do, is fight. Savage doesn’t come for them, and there’s a serious lack of martial-arts training facilities in Middle America in 1958. It’s not helping with that restless feeling under Sara’s skin, and after a while, she starts to notice the same in Kendra. The way her walk is a little too brisk on her way to the shops, like she’d rather be running. The way her knee bounces up and down at night while they work on the same stupid jigsaw puzzle on the living room floor, tearing it apart and putting it back together again over and over.

It’s Sara who finds a good set of branches in Hub City Park, ones that’ll work in place of real staves. Sara who throws one to Kendra, late one evening, when dinner’s done and it’s starting to rain and they’re facing yet another night of jigsaw puzzles and books. “Come with me,” she says, looking at Kendra like a dare. 

There’s a hint of wildness in Kendra’s eyes as she looks at Sara, ready to follow. 

By the time they make it up to the roof of their building, the sky is dark and there’s a gentle drizzle coming down, just enough to cover up the sight and sound of them. Sara raises her stave, facing Kendra. She’s more excited than she cares to admit at the idea of burning off some extra energy, at having someone to help her with it. But it’s been nearly _two weeks_ since she had a chance for some quality violence and she’s missed it, _wow_ has she missed it. 

The fight starts out with precision, every move from Kendra technically perfect and detached, almost polite. Sara presses forward, trying to throw her off balance, but Kendra matches her blow for blow, absolutely controlled. Somehow that just makes Sara itch. She doesn’t want _this_ , doesn’t want technical practice. She wants rawness, wants to see Kendra _loosen up_ in a way that she feels right down to her bones. 

She laughs, and starts goading Kendra. Her stave moves faster and faster, pushing forward, pushing Kendra to keep up. It’s sheer luck that she sees an opening, but she takes it, drops down and swipes Kendra’s feet out from under her. 

Kendra lands _hard_ , flat on her back with a groan that almost makes Sara worried. (Almost.) She stays down for a long moment, lying in what looks like a fair-sized puddle. It’s enough of a pause that Sara gets a bit concerned, drops her stave to come offer her a hand up. 

Kendra takes it and tugs, dragging Sara down to her level and suddenly Sara’s lying in a half inch of water with Kendra on top of her, grinning down. Her heart thrills at the feel of it, the _challenge_ of it suddenly running through her veins like fire. “Thought I’d never get you to loosen up,” Sara drawls. 

Kendra smiles down at her, that wildness in her expression a lot more than a hint. Her wings unfurl, and for a second, Sara can’t quite breathe. “Careful what you wish for,” she says. Her voice is warm and honey-sweet and Sara feels it all the way down to her toes, something she doesn’t want to name. 

“Never did care much for being careful,” Sara says. She accepts the hand Kendra offers, stands up wet-backed and reaches for her stave. 

They finish up as the rain is starting to stop, the pair of them soaking wet and overheated, breathless. Kendra tucks her wings away, and Sara lowers her stave in reply. 

Kendra’s grinning as she slicks her hair away from her face, eyes full of fire. She looks beautiful, and her shirt is plastered-wet to her chest and Sara needs to _stop_. Needs to stop thinking about Kendra like there’s anything there, needs to stop thinking about the way Kendra’s smile leaves a warm feeling under her ribs, needs to stop pretending that this could be anything, ever. 

Kendra closes the space between them, takes Sara’s arm. Sara can’t tell if it starts as a handshake or a hug, but she knows that one of them slips, and after that their bodies are pressed together. Sara’s back is against the edge of the rooftop and Kendra’s half on top of her, one hand braced against the concrete and one arm around Sara’s waist. Sara’s suddenly full of extra energy to burn, and her head knows that there’s nothing here but the rest of her notices hands and hips and the way that Kendra’s staring at her mouth. Kendra licks her lips and a part of Sara is suddenly desperate to know what that tongue would feel like against _her_. 

They stay like that, perfectly still in what feels like an almost-something, until it’s too much for Sara to bear. 

“You ready to head back down?” she asks. As she does, she finds her own feet, manages to stand separately from Kendra. The distance helps, a little. 

“Yeah,” Kendra says. Her voice is soft, and there’s a question in her eyes that Sara’s not sure she wants asked. 

They make it back downstairs, soaking wet and grimy from sparring, and it’s then that Sara realizes that the apartment only has one shower. Sara insists on letting Kendra take the first turn, and stands in her wet clothes until Kendra’s good and done. She showers by herself, water ice-cold, not thinking of anything at all. 

+

They buy a bed. There’s a long debate over whether to buy two doubles or one queen, but in the end, it’s a one bedroom apartment and the queen bed is the cheaper option. 

Sara tries to insist that she’ll sleep on the floor - not forever, just until they scrape together enough to buy a couch - but even Ray won’t let her go for that. The bed is more than big enough for three, he insists over dinner, gesturing with his fork. Kendra reaches across the table and rests her hand on Sara’s forearm, and tells her to stop being a martyr. 

Kendra sleeps in the middle. Ray takes the side closest to the door. Sara pretends to think about which side she’ll take, but really it’s an option between spooning with Ray (he is the _cuddliest sleeper_ ) and sleeping next to Kendra, and that’s not much of a choice. 

Sara slides into bed on that first night with her heart hammering, every one of her instincts on alert. She falls asleep on the very edge of the bed, flat on her back, arms to herself. It takes a very long time. 

When she wakes, there’s a soft arm across her belly and hair tickling her nose and her whole right side feels like it’s been sitting in a sauna. Kendra stirs, cuddling in against her, and Sara must still be half-asleep because she relaxes instinctively, and reaches up to stroke Kendra’s hair. She takes a breath, inhaling the scent of her and trying her best to memorize the moment, the way their bodies seem to fit together. 

Lying here together feels soft, intimate, and it’s not long before that’s too much for Sara to take. She extricates herself as gently as she can, trying not to linger too long on the sight of Kendra’s face, soft and peaceful in sleep. 

The clock in the kitchen tells her that it’s five in the morning, but somehow she doesn’t feel the least bit tired. 

+

Turns out, history class wasn’t kidding about job options for women in 1958.

Sara doesn’t work, but she does keep herself busy. She makes friends with the local auto mechanic, and does odd jobs for cash a few times a week. When she’s feeling really bored, she heads down to the market district and practices tailing marks, picking pockets. It earns her enough to help out with rent, to treat the three of them to steaks every now and again. 

It helps - Kendra, the work, everything - but some nights, she just needs to disappear, a little. It’s just for the night, and it’s not really disappearing - she always tells Kendra she’s going, and she always comes back the next morning. Somehow, she happens to only pick nights when Ray’s off shift, and maybe that’s not a coincidence, but Kendra’s at least kind enough not to ask. 

Sometimes she jumps rooftops - as much as she can, “downtown” Hub City has exactly one building taller than four stories, and they live in it - and longs for the skyscrapers of Central City. Sometimes she slinks off to a dive bar and dances until her feet ache, until she can stop thinking about the last time she was in a bar like this. (Until she’s nearly drunk enough to forget Leonard’s laugh; the way it felt to fight with him and Mick at her sides.) 

Sometimes, when she comes home, Kendra’s waiting up for her. She sits wrapped in her housecoat in the living room, reading, and she smiles wide with relief when Sara stumbles in smelling like cigarettes and cheap beer, unstealthy. Those nights, Kendra wraps her in a hug and offers her a glass of water, and Sara feels like she’s got something she’s coming home to. 

Those are the nights when Sara’s feeling brave, enough that she can wink at Kendra and dance her around the room until her housecoat slides off her shoulders and she giggles into Sara’s arms. Those are the nights when Kendra ruffles her hair and tells her, “Come to bed,” and Sara falls asleep with her arms wrapped tight around Kendra’s waist, when it’s easy to ignore the way that Ray snuggles into Kendra’s back on her other side. 

One night, she comes home late-late, enough that she’s walking in with the sunrise. The apartment smells like sizzling bacon and coffee, and from the hallway she can hear the sounds of her house waking up. Kendra and Ray are in the kitchen together, making pancakes, and he looks so pleased with himself as he wishes Sara a good morning that he’s practically _blushing._

There’s a condom in the wastebasket in the bathroom, and Sara tries not to think about why that bothers her. 

+

Ten days in 1958 turn into twenty, and soon it’s been over a month marooned together. Turns out: there is fucking _nothing_ fun to do in 1958. The movies suck, there’s no Netflix, no video games, no bars she can take Kendra to without getting attention they don’t need. They work on Sara’s puzzle until they’re both so sick of it that they donate it back to the thrift store. 

From there, they try checkers, cribbage, one epic game of Monopoly that Ray has to break up when he comes home from his shift at eight in the morning because he’s honestly concerned it might end in violence. 

Finally, they end up with the last thing Sara can think of: a bottle of whiskey and Truth or Dare, sitting across from each other on the living room floor.

It starts off as a joke - well, half a joke - Sara trying to come up with things to do that actually exist in this stupid decade and aren’t soul-crushingly boring. But there’s also been something about the two of them, lately, that makes her think it might not be the worst idea. 

She feels Kendra’s eyes on her all the time, now, whether they’re on their own or with Ray. She feels something different in the way Kendra leans into her at night, in the way Kendra reaches across her while they cook dinner together and makes a point of eye contact, touch. The way Kendra keeps dragging her up to the roof to spar, to watch her fly, to sit together and split a bottle of wine and stare at the stars. 

It’s Sara’s turn, and she takes a sip of whiskey to start it off, letting it burn across her tongue until she feels warm all the way down to her belly. “Truth or dare,” she asks. 

“Truth,” Kendra says. She’s trying to keep a poker face, but she’s so terrible at it that Sara can’t help but be charmed. 

“Is this the shittiest decade you’ve ever lived in?” Sara asks. Her legs are stretched out, parallel with Kendra’s, and she taps Kendra’s hip with her foot to punctuate the question. 

Kendra grabs her foot, holding it close and shaking gently, more of that casual touch that Sara can’t quite get enough of. “Well,” she says, a laugh in her voice. “It does at least have indoor plumbing going for it. And electricity is nice. I do miss the internet, though.” 

“And Netflix,” Sara counters.

“Better movies,” Kendra says, with a hint of frustration. 

Once Kendra starts it, Sara has a million things to say, things she had _no idea_ she took for granted in 2016. “You know what else I miss? Sports bras.” 

“Forget that, I miss regular bras from 2016, too.” 

“ _Leggings_.”

“Pumpkin spice lattes,” Kendra says. 

Sara makes a face. “Regular lattes, please.” 

Kendra chuckles, says, “Dance music.” 

“Queer bars,” Sara says back, suddenly longing for the thud of a dance floor that doesn’t think the height of edgy music is Bobby Darin and the crush of bodies around her. 

It must show on her face, because Kendra’s lip catches between her teeth and suddenly Sara’s just got an _idea._ She takes the bottle back and has another sip. “Truth or dare?” she asks. 

“I thought it was my turn,” Kendra says, playful. Sara gives her a look, and that’s a dare in and of itself. Kendra’s eyes are dark and she’s half-leaning into Sara already when she whispers, “Dare.” 

“I dare you to kiss me,” Sara growls, and a part of her can’t believe she’s _saying it_ but the rest of her feels like it’s the only thing to say. 

Kendra has a terrible poker face, and what that means is that she can’t hide the spark in her eyes, the eagerness and nerves playing across her expression as she licks her her lower lip and bites it agains. Sara feels anticipation start to build, low in her belly. 

Kendra tucks her knees underneath her and leans forward. She kisses Sara and it feels inevitable, like they’ve been orbiting towards this since the Waverider abandoned them here. Kendra kisses her and her mouth is soft and Sara suddenly feels so much that she doesn’t know what to do with it all. 

When she pulls away, there are tears in her eyes and Kendra’s expression goes soft. She cups Sara’s cheek, whispers, “Hey.”

“Sorry,” Sara mumbles, sliding backwards. It’s just a few inches of distance, but it’s enough that she can swipe at her eyes with her forearm and not feel like she’s going to fall apart. “Sorry. You didn’t have to do that.”

Kendra laughs, the one she uses when she thinks Sara’s being silly. “I know that,” she says. “I kind of wanted to.” 

“Just kind of?” Sara asks. She’s trying to keep her voice teasing, but this feels so new and oddly overwhelming that it’s giving her the jitters. Despite her intentions, her voice wobbles. 

“Kind of a lot,” Kendra says. She’s on her hands and knees, now, and she closes the space between them until all Sara can see is her eyes, bright and big and patient, like Sara’s worth waiting for. “Kind of this whole time. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Sara says. “Yeah, that’s alright.” 

She kisses Sara again. This time, it’s not too much. This time, Sara’s ready for it, and it’s more than alright. Its - ok, it’s making Sara _hot_ for her, is all, but it’s been a lifetime and suddenly Sara’s feeling everything all at once again, arousal from her lips to her toes. Her skin feels like it’s on fire as Kendra’s hand cups the back of her neck, and her heart is hammering loud in her ears as they kiss again and again and again. 

Sara groans, sheer desire and it’s artless, too loud, embarrassing. But Kendra doesn’t seem to mind. She just sighs into Sara’s mouth and leans forward, pressing Sara onto her back. The weight of her hips on Sara’s is familiar-but-not, just like sparring but completely, completely different. It takes Sara a minute to catch her breath, to adjust to the way Kendra’s using those hands to learn her body like _this_ , caressing her like it’s urgent, like she’s wanted this just as badly as Sara. 

It’s not long before she’s feeling _eager_ , keyed up with lust and she hasn’t done this part in forever, not since before she died. It’s strange, feeling like she knows how this should feel but also like she’s learning it all over again. It translates into desire she can hardly stand, and a delicious, sweet ache between her legs that makes her whimper against Kendra’s shoulder. 

Her jeans are down around her knees and honestly Kendra’s barely worked her hand under Sara’s underwear before Sara’s breaking apart, shaking and whimpering and leaving Kendra’s fingers slick with her.

There’s kissing after - lots of kissing, and Sara honestly feels like she could keep kissing forever. She reaches down to the hem of Kendra’s skirt and Kendra giggles against her skin, wriggling to help Sara undress her. Sara kisses Kendra’s belly, her thighs, watching the way she squirms and sighs in anticipation and feeling like she could do this forever, too. She settles herself between Kendra’s legs, uses hands-tongue-teeth and fucking _devours_ her until she’s sure Kendra’s done. Until there are fingernail marks on Sara’s shoulders and she feels so proud, so _awed_ at the sound and taste of all of this, of the fact that it’s _happening._

They end up shaky and sated on the living room floor, the bottle of whiskey long forgotten. Sara feels boneless, and Kendra keeps looking at her, bright-eyed and giggling. She’s suddenly struck with wanting to remember this feeling, for a good long while. 

It’s an effort to remember not to fall asleep like that, to retire to the bedroom and fall asleep the way Ray expects to find them, in bed. They change into pyjamas together, undressing each other and kissing all over and if they go another round before they fall asleep, well. That’s not the worst idea either of them have had. 

Sara comes for the second time with her head on Kendra’s chest, exhausted and boneless and full of emotion she doesn’t want to examine too closely. She thinks about being the kind of person who asks - what this means, what about Ray, what the fuck are they doing - but she doesn’t. 

She just thinks about the way that Kendra’s hand fits into hers, and the sound of her heartbeat beneath Sara’s cheek as they fall asleep. 

+

The next morning, Sara goes down to the Army Surplus and picks up a duffle bag, a new jacket, some basic survival gear. She leaves it by the door, half-packed. Just in case. 

+

The thing is, now that they’ve kissed, it’s hard to go back to a time before. Their days get spent together automatically, and on nights when Ray’s at work, they crash into each other over and over again, until Sara feels like they know every inch of each other. 

It’s different enough that even Ray notices, a few weeks in. He’s getting ready to demonstrate his latest time beacon, tinkering and talking nervously and suddenly he stops, looks at the two of them on the couch. “You know,” he says. “I’m really glad you two have gotten so close. I think it’s great that you two have each other to spend time with, while I’m at work and stuff.” 

Sara stares at her shoes, and Kendra gives the ceiling a flustered look and it’s a long few seconds before either of them can recover enough to speak. “Well,” Kendra says, in her gentlest voice, the one she always saves for Ray. “Sara’s a really great friend.” 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Sara mumbles, because she feels like she needs to say something. Her face feels hot, like she’s gone red to her ears.

But Ray, bless him, just smiles and launches into a demonstration of his latest beacon. It doesn’t work, but it does blow out the fuses for the entire building, which leaves Ray and the maintenance guy downstairs for an hour before Ray’s shift trying to fix things. 

The thing is: Ray still goes to work that night. And once he’s gone, it’s Kendra and Sara alone. They’re barely finished dinner before Kendra’s arms are around Sara’s waist and Sara’s holding her tight, so tight, thinking about how this can never last for as long as she wishes it would. 

Then it’s the two of them curled together in the dark, like always. But tonight, Sara feels on edge, acutely aware of the fact that this is Ray’s bed, too, that Kendra’s half-his and that this isn’t a forever sort of thing they’re getting into. “What are we doing?” she whispers. 

“I don’t know, I just -“ Kendra whispers. Sara’s chest is tight and her heart feels full with all of this, but when she looks down at Kendra she sees the same thing mirrored in her expression, and maybe that’s enough. Maybe that makes this okay. 

It feels okay, as Sara works her fingers into Kendra and feels her hot and slick around her, gripping her tight. Sara does her best to memorize the sound of every gasp, every shuddering sigh and the way Kendra grabs Sara’s wrist and whimpers her name when she comes. She does her best to remember the feel of Kendra’s mouth against her skin, the way her hair feels fisted in Sara’s hands and the way Sara breaks apart every time Kendra’s tongue flicks against her just _right_. 

They end up tangled together, sated, only half-undressedi their eagernes to get to each other. Kendra’s got herself tucked into Sara’s arms and she’s tracing shapes with her nails against Sara’s chest, swirls and heiroglyphs that make Sara feel like she belongs here. 

“Do you think Ray’s ever going to get that time beacon to work?” Sara asks. 

“Ray’s resourceful,” Kendra says. “He’ll figure it out eventually.” 

“Do you really think the team’s ever -“ Sara can’t quite bring herself to finish. They’re never. They’re gone. 

Kendra looks up. The hurt in her eyes matches the ache in Sara’s chest. She knows. They both do. 

“I wish he’d just stop,” Sara whispers. “It keeps reminding me of -“

“I know,” Kendra whispers. There are tears in her eyes, and Sara pulls her closer, into a hug that gives Kendra time to feel. 

“I know you do,” Sara mumbles against the top of her head. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Kendra says, after a while. “He’ll listen to me.” 

“Thanks,” Sara says. 

If there’s a reason Ray listens to Kendra over her, she doesn’t think about it. Not tonight. 

+

This is the other thing about the two of them: they were never going to work. Sara’s been here with Oliver, with others before that, and even if she’s died and come back, she’s not naive enough to miss the signs. Kendra is starting to feel like home, like a person she could fall for, and she knows that means that things need to change. 

She’s had her bag packed for days, teetering on the edge of something. She can’t tell if it’s _I’m leaving_ or _run away with me_ until it all clicks, until the moment when she knows she needs to leave. 

Kendra might be falling for Sara, too, but suddenly Sara realizes that it’s not enough. 

It’s not enough to make Kendra talk to Ray about his false hope and his starry-eyed optimism. Not enough to make Kendra tell Ray to knock it off with talk about being rescued because _nobody is coming_ and the more he says it the more it hurts to think about everyone and what must have happened to them. 

She slings her bag over her shoulder, hears herself say something sweet about Kendra and Ray but she’s not really processing. Her whole focus is consumed with Kendra, the way she’s looking at Sara and the way Sara feels like she’s ruining something and making the right choice, all at once. 

She leaves. 

She makes it halfway down the block before the tears start. Her eyes are aching and her jaw is clenched tight but at least she’s far away enough that it’s okay to let them fall. Far enough that she’s sure neither of them are coming after her, enough that she’s sure she’s really as alone as she feels. 

She walks until Hub City melts into highway, until she’s not quite sure if she’s crying for the people she’s lost, or Kendra, or herself. She can do this. 

She’s got a to-do list in her head, and it hasn’t let her down yet.


End file.
